Prologue
It all startedfifteen years ago or something like that, but I’m not the type to keep track of dates, years, or how much time has passed since a guy made me breathless in the dark. But that night, I had to run away and couldn’t allow myself to wonder what might have been. I could never look back.
I held firm to my self-made promise.
He left our small town for bigger things, but I heard he had come back, and I had counted my blessings each day I hadn’t run into him.
My luck had run out when my sister, Melody, fell into the arms of this guy’s brother, Brett. Our siblings are now working together, running my dad’s bourbon shop. I figured if I didn’t ask about him, I could go on believing he was a caveman hiding from society.
Then, last week, my false sense of hope was crushed.
I was trying to do a good deed and help my sister and her new lover, who needed to tend to a scheduling conflict at the shop. Something came over me, and I volunteered to help Brett by bringing his daughter, Parker, to a bake sale she had plans to take part in at her school. It was only for two hours. Plus, there would be cookies.
I didn’t see trouble coming, but when it did, it was like a train wreck.
Over the gray linoleum floor and beneath the fluorescent lights of the school’s foyer, I watched a gaggle of women swoon over a grizzly-bearded PTA dad while I set up a table full of cookies. The other tables had been set up and ready, so as usual, I must have been late at being on time.
Once the bake sale started, we sold a lot of cookies, and I believe I ate as many as we sold, but who is counting? After the first half-hour, the fundraiser turned into a socializing event. That’s when my boredom kicked in. Thank God for phones with endless strings of social drama to read.
“You’re new around here,” a voice bellows from in front of the table. I glance up, finding the grizzly-bearded dad, no longer surrounded by his bosom-posse. Instead, he was studying me as if I was a mystery he needed to solve.
“Yeah, just helping Brett Pearson tonight,” I told him, dropping my gaze back to my phone to highlight my disinterest. Sorry, bud, you’ve got a beard, so that’s a hard no for me.
“A volunteer?” he continued.
“Sure,” I told him with a shrug.
“I’m glad Brett found someone to help him out tonight. Yeah, he said he was bummed he couldn’t make it.” The guy knew Brett. Small town problems.
I looked to the chair beside me in search of Brett’s daughter, discovering Parker had disappeared.
It was a wonderful “oh shit” moment.
“Yeah, he—uh—wanted to be here,” I told the guy, trying to sound distracted as I searched the area for Parker.
“Do you have a kid in this school too, or did Brett just hire you to babysit?” The guy wouldn’t quit. Question after question when I was doing my best to hide the fact that I lost Brett’s daughter.
“Uh yeah, my kid is here—somewhere,” I lied, thinking it would shut him up. “She’s old enough to do her own thing, so I offered to help with Parker.”
“Oh, nice. Which kid is yours?” Again, with the small-town problem. I was backing myself into a corner while tugging at the tablecloth, hoping my little friend might be playing hide-and-seek.
She wasn’t there either.
“Uh,” I stumbled. I needed a common name to get him out of my hair. “Amy.” I avoided eye-contact since I’m a firm believer in eyes are a tell-all when lying.
“Amy, huh?” the guy continued.
“Yup, fifth grade—tough year,” I said as I rolled up to my toes to scan the area above the taller heads.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the guy grit his teeth and smile awkwardly before leaning in toward me. “This school only goes up to fourth grade,” he whispered.
The color might have drained from my face. “Oh, crap. What am I saying? I meant fourth grade. I’m already thinking ahead to next year. Amy is all excited for middle school.”
The grizzly-beard’s lips pressed together as if he was lost in thought. “They don’t start middle school until seventh grade. I’m sure you know there’s an intermediate school.”
All I could think was: when the hell did this happen? I attended school in the same damn town.
“That’s what I meant,” I told him, obviously losing the battle.
